


Madainn ag Èirigh (Morning Rising)

by Rìgh_Marbh (Righ_Marbh)



Series: Thunder in Your Lungs [1]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Church Sex, F/M, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25483912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Righ_Marbh/pseuds/R%C3%ACgh_Marbh
Summary: I went a wee bit mental on the fills for this round so here's another one forTLKFFF2020 for Prompt 67: Finan/woman (OC or Canon character) early morning sexy times.Finan & Skellig find each other in the pale, bloody dawn after a battle and if there’s an altar involved then that is between them and any passing deity who happens to be watching.
Relationships: Finan (The Last Kingdom)/Original Character(s)
Series: Thunder in Your Lungs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846030
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43
Collections: The Last Kingdom Fanfic Fest





	Madainn ag Èirigh (Morning Rising)

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s call this one a deleted scene from the longer Finan/OC piece I REALLY DID NOT MEAN TO START WRITING. Skellig is my current DnD character, a pesky Norse-Gael Tempest cleric who likes to cause problems on purpose. She’s been re-written a little bit for the TLK stuff but as we’re running an alt-history 9th century campaign, there’s not that much tweaking to do. The really difficult bit is that, in my mind at least, she’s basically Sihtric with longer hair and no beard so, uh, take from that what you will!
> 
> This is also straight up the first actual smut I've ever written so that's a fun learning curve!

There had been no sleep for any of them. Too many bodies, to much blood and not enough time to gather themselves before they had to leave. She’d not meant to get separated from him but in the post-battle clamour Finan had disappeared and now Skellig was stuck at the back of a weary army on a night march.

They were camped outside the half-ruined church because Alfred had wanted to pray before retiring but the building was quiet when the rear guard finally caught up with the rest of the camp near dawn and it was the one place Skellig could think of to find someone who could point her toward Uhtred and his men. She’d expected Beocca or Pyrlig, if she was honest, or any one of Alfred’s priests who would be able to give her directions. She had not expected to find Finan sitting on the charred stone, with his back against the altar and his eyes closed. He’d discarded his armour, though his two swords lay on the floor beside him, and from a distance he looked almost peaceful.

Skellig stopped at the door. A few dim rays of pale sunlight struggled to make it through the narrow windows but they fell across his face, highlighting every new bump and cut he’d picked up in the battle. His hands lay in his lap, knuckles bloodied, with the frayed cord of the hammer pendant she thought she’d lost tangled around his fingers. In an instant the faint worry that she’d carried since she last glimpsed him across the battlefield faded into nothing and she need never admit that she had been worried at all.

He wasn’t asleep - there was a deep frown etched on his features that gave him away - but he didn’t so much as twitch as she padded as lightly as possible across the stone floor. There was no danger here as any attacker would need to cross the entire Saxon camp to reach the church and Skellig was able to kneel before him before he gave any indication of having heard a thing.

“If that is you, Osferth, you can fuck off.”

“A fine way to greet me after I’ve just marched all night to find you.” His eyes shot open and he lurched forward, their foreheads crashing together with a smack. Skellig rocked back on her heels as Finan groaned. “Though an improvement on that, _christ_.”

She’d not a chance to recover from the blow to her head because Finan’s hands were suddenly everywhere, feeling over her scored leather cuirass and battered mail looking for injuries.

“You’re here? How are you here!? Steapa said he saw you fall and...”

She could imagine exactly how that news had been imparted. Steapa was not a coldhearted man but, well, he was not to know of the things that had passed between her and Finan and she wouldn’t expect much tact from Alfred’s man.

“I took a hit, that was all. You’ve given me worse on a bad day.”

And gods how she loved the way they fought. Maybe it wasn’t clever to take their frustration out on each other in the training square but Finan made fighting an art form and pushed her to the very limits.

“No, he said you were _gone_.”

“Then his eyesight is worse than we thought. I am here, Finan, I am sore and I am tired but I am fine.”

His hands stopped roaming and settled instead at her neck, his fingers curling into her hair and tugging free the long braid she wore into battle. Her hammer, still tangled around his hand, banged off of her armour.

“Do not...do not _ever_ do that to me again.”

A thousand snide remarks rose and died on her tongue. She hadn’t _done_ anything. It wasn’t her fault that Steapa was a half-blind idiot and, besides, why did he even care? She was just a reckless and annoying little heathen he’d been stuck with because he was the only one who could understand her when she first arrived in Wessex.

Instead, she raised her hand to his face and ran her thumb over the two deep scars on his cheek.

“I wont. I promise.”

And then he kissed her.

He was hard and soft in turns, like he couldn’t make up his mind what to do with her. She leaned forwards, bracing her hands on his knees and pushing him back into the altar and his hands drifted from her hair to her hips, fisting in her chainmail and tugging her closer. Her kneecap crunched painfully on the cold stone floor but as she pulled back, Finan’s tongue ran deftly across her bottom lip and he found herself falling into him again.

By the time they parted, Skellig’s lungs were screaming for air and she found herself pulled half into Finan’s lap. He trailed soft kisses across her jaw and down her neck until he met the collar of her armour, at which point, he leaned back against the altar with a mischievous look in his eye.

“As much as I like you in armour and, believe me I am very much enamoured with... _all_ of this...” His eyes trailed over her and his hands followed before settling to work on the buckles at her waist. “...I would really like you out of it. Now.”

It was a messy tangle trying to shrug out of leather and mail, with weapons falling out of scabbards to clatter to the floor and it wasn’t helped by Finan pausing to kiss every new patch of skin that was revealed to him until Skellig was left straddling his lap in the frayed and patched red linen dress she wore beneath her armour. The thin leather cords at her throat had snapped some time ago and he ran one finger teasingly across her skin before skimming his hands over her breasts and settling once more on her hips, where he pulled her firmly against him.

“You see what you do to me, woman?”

“I do nothing. This is entirely a problem of your own making.”

He laughed and leaned forwards to kiss her once more. It might have even been chaste were it not for his cock straining insistently against his breeches.

“I thought you dead, Skellig. You cannot blame me for wanting you after that.”

“I can and I will.”

Finan’s hands trailed down her thighs, gathering up the fabric of her skirts even as he sighed.

“Must we do this every time? For once can you just accept that I want you without putting up a bloody argument?”

Skellig met his eye, albeit with a little difficulty as he rocked up against her core.

“I thought you liked it when we argued?”

He moved quickly, gathering her up and standing in one fluid movement before depositing her on the alter behind them. Propped up on her elbows, with Finan hovering over her, Skellig was just able to nip lightly at his bottom lip as he slowly pushed her skirts up to bunch at her hips, puncturing his words with fleeting kisses along the inside of her thigh.

“I like it better when you’re not just doing it to avoid talking about _us_.”

“I wasn’t aware we _were_ talking.”

He pulled back out of her reach but didn’t release his firm hold on her. His thumb found a long, old scar from an arrow at the join of her hip and rubbed over it softly.

“You are doing it again.”

With a heavy sigh she dropped back against the altar. There was a reason they usually fought instead of giving into _this_. It was far less complicated and Finan was less inclined to talk.

“Right now _you_ are the one arguing.”

He pushed his hands higher, moving beneath her dress, before dragging his nails down her sides, making her arch her back off of the stone as a soft moan fell from her lips.

“No, I am trying to tell you that I love you.”

The moment seemed to freeze, though it did nothing to ease the burning want between her legs and Finan was still hovering just barely out of reach, his fingers dancing lightly over her skin, never quite reaching where she needed him.

“If you loved me, you would stop teasing.”

“Skellig, mo thàirneanach...” _My thunder_. He’d called her that before but never so softly. Never as he pressed his thumb to the bundle of nerves at her core, drawing a breathless curse from her with a dark smirk. “...can you even imagine what you look like to me right now?”

Half dressed, splayed across a soot-stained altar with the rising sun spilling in through the windows. She sat up, pulling him closer by his tunic, and threw everything she had left into a kiss. When this had started, the anger-fuelled fumbles in dark corners of Alfred’s palace, she had almost never kissed him. It had been quick and rough and for no other reason than they’d battered each other black and blue and still hadn’t found some kind of release.

But this? This was _holy_. Finan was pressed flush against her, the cool leather of his armour against her skin and as she fumbled to undo the clasp at his neck, he worked to unlace his breeches.

“I swear when this is over...”

“ _Finan_.”

“...no, listen...when this is over...we’ll do things properly. You and me and the biggest bed we can find and no one interrupting us.”

Skellig bit down lightly on his collar, drawing out a soft growl, as he pressed himself against her. One of his hands returned to her hair and he carded his fingers through the dark waves punctuated by tiny braids and silver beads. He ran his other hand up her thigh and gripped her hip hard enough that she knew the bruises would last until they made it back to Coccham.

“Can I have you?”

His breath ghosted over her neck as he muttered softly in her ear. He always asked, even when the answer was obvious and it always made heat curl in her stomach.

His hand drifted to her centre, stroking lightly before he pressed one finger teasingly inside as he pressed his thumb gently against her clit.

“I think...that you know my answer.”

He curled his finger gently and Skellig’s breath caught in her throat.

“Hmm, but I like to hear you say it.”

“Finan... _please_.”

He dropped a soft kiss onto her cheek, removing his hand and lining himself up carefully and pushing inside agonisingly slowly as a dark curse fell breathlessly from his lips.

The rising sun through the broken windows threw a bright, warm shaft of light across his face, picking out the flecks of gold in his dark eyes and Skellig released her grip on his tunic to trace her finger along the two dark scars on his cheek.

“This _definitely_ counts as blasphemy.

Finan let out a breathy laugh, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Then how is it I feel like a God?”

His kiss was searing. His grip on her thighs unyielding and his pace relentless. The cold of the stone seeped through her dress only to be chased away by the heat of his embrace and the bright sun rising at her back. There was no chance to breath or to think what might happen if someone found them and Skellig could only anchor her hands in his hair and pray.

Finan pressed his face into the crook of her neck as his hips stuttered. He ran his hands down her side, reaching to bring her over the edge before him but Skellig grabbed his wrist.

“Not this time just...just don’t stop.”

He met her eye, confusion and understanding swirling together as he pieced together what she meant.

“If I don’t...”

“I know the risks.”

"Is this your way of saying..."

"That I love you too? Aye."

He slowed his pace, pulling her in by her hips as he thrust forwards until there was no space between them and kissing her tenderly.

"Took your fucking time about it."

"Can't have you thinking I'm too eager."

He rolled his hips and nipped at her bottom lip, mischief sparking in his eyes in the early morning light.

"Well I, for one, have no such misgivings...so you'd better hold on tight."


End file.
